Prodigal Father
by RenegadeMonkey
Summary: During an encounter at the auction Helena lands her blow against D'artagnan. He chooses to continue on and helps Porthos even after being seriously injured. The Musketeers must do everything they can to bring him back from the brink. *Season 2 Episode 8 SPOILERS* Don't read if you haven't watched, the show is way too awesome to spoil the plot before you have a chance to enjoy it.
1. Chapter 1

D'artagnan and Athos' blood began to boil as Helena Lavisk led a small group of beautiful young girls into the room to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Athos feels the young Gascon tense next to him as one of the men reached for the lead girl. "Please end this before I end up wanting to kill everyone here," he growled under his breath so only Athos could hear him. They sat silent as the bidding began and as the bid for the first girl reached 40 livres Athos interjected, "I bid nothing." The statement caused the room to fall silent and Helena spun around to face him and with a voice laced with venom and hatred said, "I don't think you understand Monsieur."

Unable to contain his anger anymore Athos Shouted, "I understand very well!"

D'artagnan looked to the young woman in front of him, "Do you trust us?" his eyes locking with hers. It didn't take long before shout yelled to the girls behind her, "Go with them!"

As soon as those words were said chaos ensued. Helena's guards made a grab for the girls while wealthy men, fearing for their livelihoods and reputations, made a dash for it. In the madness Helena could be heard yelling to her husband.

Outside in the street just outside the gate sat an apprehensive Aramis. He cursed himself for showing his hand too early to Helena and causing him to have to wait outside or risk raising suspicion and blowing the whole operation. The Spaniard pushed himself away from the wall that he had been leaning against when he heard yelling at the gate. A few men who Aramis had seen enter earlier that evening were now spilling into the streets, running from some unseen danger.

Recognizing that it was time to act, Aramis took off towards the entrance dodging between the fleeing Lords, comtes, and wealthy merchants. As he breached the door he could see D'artagnan at the base of the staircase ushering a group of women in white sheer gowns towards the door. There were more than he had been expecting.

Aramis noticed that his young friend was unarmed. This meant that Athos was most likely unarmed as well and he removed one of his swords from its sheath and tossed it to D'artagnan who tossed it up the stairs to Athos who was attempting to fight off two guards with swords.

"Go with him!" D'artagnan shouted to the girls and began pushing the group towards the exit.

Just then a guard clad all in black lunged toward D'artagnan, but missed by mere centimeters as the lithe Gascon twisted around to face his attacker. In one swift movement the man was disarmed and D'artagnan was readying himself to face another attacker, stolen blade in hand.

By then Athos had made it down the stairs and was about to be overtaken by one of the guards and Helena's husband. Aramis leapt onto the guard and D'artagnan pulled Lavisk back by his collar giving Athos the opening that he needed to make a slash as Lavisk's hand. The other man let out a yell and released his sword as Athos landed a well-placed blow to his head.

The two older Musketeers having dealt with their opponents took the opportunity to follow the girls out into the street. D'artagnan placed himself between the two remaining guards and his companions to cover their escape.

After disarming one and fatally wounding the other D'artagnan turned to depart as well, but did not see Helena pick up her husband's abandoned blade as she charged at him. D'artagnan turned into the attack as Helena gave a frustrated scream. The blade bit into his back and right side as he turned.

Faster than she could even comprehend, D'artagnan had knocked away the sword and held his own blade against her exposed throat, "I've never killed a woman before, but for you, I might make an exception." Hate dripped from his words as he pressed the edge of the blade harder against her skin, drawing a thin line of crimson down her neck.

Helena's eyes filled with fear and D'artagnan let his words sink in a moment before shoving the woman hard and turning to leave.

On the street Athos and Aramis had rounded the girls up and stood at the corner, eyes trained on the empty courtyard and the open gate. Their muscles were tense as the seconds ticked by. Athos called out for D'artagnan, but no response came.

Seconds later the two men visibly relaxed as the lean frame of the Gascon came into view, but it was short lived as Aramis noticed a slight hitch in D'artagnan' s step.

Just as D'artagnan came level with the gate Helena appeared in the doorway having grabbed a pistol from one of her dead guards and took aim at D'artagnan.

From where they stood both Aramis and Athos recognized the blast of a pistol and watched in horror as D'artagnan' s body jerked violently as the ball impacted his left shoulder.

"D'ARTAGNAN!" Athos yelled as Aramis took off at a sprint towards their youngest member.

D'artagnan managed to stay upright after being hit and in second Aramis was at his side and fired a shot of his own. The ball imbedded itself in the wooden frame of the doorway showering bits of wood and mortar on Helena forcing her to duck back into the building.

Aramis placed a hand on D'artagnan's back to steady him and together they took off towards the awaiting girls and a worried looking Athos.

Once there D'artagnan leaned against the wall next to a torch. He winced as Aramis began to paw at him to locate any and all of his injuries. "I'm fine," D'artagnan announced attempting to hide his discomfort, "the shot hit my shoulder," but the truth of it was the pain in his side was making it difficult to breathe.

Athos shared a look with Aramis, who in the dim light was unable to make out the severity D'artagnan's wounds.

"Can you still run?" Athos asked.

D'artagnan nodded and Aramis gave him a gentle pat on his uninjured shoulder, "Always one for the dramatic flair, ay D'artagnan? I'll patch you up at the garrison, but now we better leave before they find the courage to give chase." The three companions took off at a run with their charges in the direction of the Musketeer's garrison.


	2. Chapter 2

Once the girls were safe at the garrison, Captain Treville set to the task of questioning the girls about Lebarg's involvement in their kidnapping and illegal auction. While he questioned them Aramis had D'artagnan seated in the corner of the room and was seeing to his injuries.

Every so often he would let out a grunt or curse, but refused to cry out, even as Aramis dug the ball out of his flesh. Treville noticed the worried glances that Athos kept shooting in their direction.

Sometime later Treville finished his interrogation and Aramis had just tied off the last stitch on D'artagnan's side. Athos approached the two just as the window began showing signs of early morning light.

D'artagnan was now standing with his elbow resting on top of Aramis's head as a bloodied cloth was used to wipe away any excess blood before bandaging him up. The gash was long and deep from what Athos knew of sword wounds. It started at D'artagnan's back and wrapped around his side and ended just above his trousers over his right hip.

"That will leave an impressive scar." Said Athos in an attempt to distract D'artagnan from what was going to happen next.

"Not a word of this to Constance. I don't need her to worry about me right now."

His face was slightly pale and he appeared tired, but still in good spirits.

"And how do you think she is going to react when she finally sees it?" Aramis interjected from beneath the Ganson's arm.

"And the fact that you didn't tell her?" added Athos.

"At least by then there will be nothing left for her to worry about," replied D'artagnan with a sigh.

Suddenly D'artagnan's body tensed up and he hissed between his teeth as Aramis placed an alcohol doused rag over the wound. The others waited for their friend to open his eyes again before continuing.

"We are going to meet up with Porthos at the Belgard Estate." Announced Athos.

"Good. When do we leave?"

Athos stared at the younger man critically, "Aramis, The Captain, and myself will be leaving within the hour. You will remain here to rest."

D'artagnan looked offended, "What? No. I am going to help Porthos with you."

Aramis sighed loudly as he tied a knot in the bandages encircling D'artagnan's torso.

"You need rest. That is no scratch D'artagnan." He said gesturing to his side as he stood up.

The Gascon opened his mouth to argue, but Athos cut him off, "Mon Dieu D'artagnan. You don't know when to stop, do you?" worry and agitation clear in his tone.

D'artagnan grabbed the clean shirt that was brought to him shortly after they returned to the garrison and pulled it over his head.

"Apparently not, but it doesn't matter, because I'm going."

Aramis looked at Athos and shrugged in defeat. They both knew that once D'artagnan had made up his mind there would be no changing it. The boy was just too stubborn for his own good.

D'artagnan slowly picked up his brown leather jacket and turned it over; examining the large hole that now graced the entire right half.

"Well that won't do," announced Treville as he walked over to the small group of Musketeers, "You can wear this until you find the time to patch that up or get a new one." Treville offered D'artagnan a faded dark leather jacket not unlike the one he already wore. He nodded to the Captain before accepting the soft leather.

"We leave immediately. It's a two hour ride and Lavisk already has a significant lead on us."

Minutes later the Musketeers found themselves in the training yard about to mount up. Athos and Aramis were watching closely for any sign that their youngest comrade's determination might falter. That was when Aramis noticed just how well the Captain's jacket fit D'artagnan's lean frame.

"Captain," Aramis began just loud enough for Treville and Athos to hear, "that jacket, I don't exactly see it fitting you too well."

Treville gave a small grin, "Oh, but it did once."

Athos eyed the garment critically, "At what age?"

"I believe I was sixteen the last time I wore that, only a few years younger that D'artagnan is now. I found it in the bottom of my trunk the other day. I was just about to get rid of it."

Athos pulled his hat onto his head before pulling himself up into the saddle and said, "Don't let D'artagnan hear that once belonged to you as a teen. I don't think he would take it very well."

"He would hate us for it,' added Aramis with a smile, "But I make no promises that it won't slip out one day when he has need to be knocked down a few pegs. This could be fun."

"What could be fun?" questioned D'artagnan looking slightly confused, having missed the rest of the conversation.

Aramis remained silent, now was not the time where he would be able to fully enjoy riling up the younger man that would be better left for a drunken night at the tavern with Porthos for backup.


	3. Chapter 3

They rode in relative silence all the way to the Belgard estate. D'artagnan pretended not to notice the sideways glances from his companions who kept trying to check his condition as they rode. Frustration bubbled up inside him as he noticed their paced had slowed some after his horse stumbled over a root eliciting a small gasp of pain before D'artagnan could stop himself.

It wasn't until the large house was in sight that they allowed there pace to quicken. Once on the property the group dismounted and lashed their mounts to a nearby tree before continuing on foot.

Just outside of the courtyard they stopped to listen to the voice emanating through the open wooden doors. They could make out the familiar baritone of Porthos, another much older man, Helena, and her husband. Then suddenly a shot rang out. That spurred the musketeers into action and they drew their pistols.

In seconds the courtyard was a cacophony of musket blasts and shouting as the Musketeers aimed to protect Porthos. Who in turn was protecting a young woman wearing a dirty and torn dress. Porthos kept his pistol trained on Helena and her guards.

D'artagnan's side flared painfully as he dove for cover behind a stone pillar just as a ball impacted the wall just behind where D'artagnan's head had been just seconds earlier. Spots danced behind his eyelids and he held his breath and waited for the worst of the pain to pass. The Gascon started returning fire once more, but could feel warm liquid against his skin as it became trapped beneath the bandages Aramis had tied snuggly around his torso.

The others watched as Porthos hid the girl behind cover and took off after his father with his pistol drawn and a determined look on his face.

Captain Treville had to shout to be heard over the din, "Athos!" he yelled from his position near the door that Belgard and Porthos had disappeared through, "You handle these guys, I am going to have a talk with my old friend."

Athos nodded from behind the fountain in the center of the courtyard and exposed himself to draw the attention of the remaining guards and allowing the Captain the opening he needed to enter the manor unchallenged.

It did not take long for the three remaining Musketeers to turn the fight in their favor and a few minutes later they had subdued the last of the guards.

"Should we go after them?" asked a winded D'artagnan, hand wrapped around his middle and shoulders rolled forward.

"No, the Captain will have it sorted out soon enough." Answered Athos.

As if summoned by words alone, Porthos appeared in a nearby doorway followed closely by Treville.

"Shall we?" he asked in his low baritone. The others agreed and as a group turned to depart.

"What will you do now?" Athos asked Porthos as they neared their horses.

"Same thing I've always done," he replied.

"And what about your inheritance?"

"Belgard has nothing that I am interested in, " answered Porthos, "Still, it is a bigger house than yours."

Athos laughed at the correctness of the statement.

Aramis removed a small bundle from hiss saddle and approached Porthos, "Well if you're staying, you'll be needing this then." He offered him the bundle which contained Porthos's leather shoulder guard bearing the Musketeer's crest.

"All for one," stated Aramis.

"Yeah, I know," Porthos replied accepting the scarred leather. It fell right into place as he slid his arm through the straps. The familiar piece was like an extension of Porthos's soul. He decided then that he would never give it up again.

The Musketeers mounted their horses and rode away smiling and laughing again as if nothing would ever tear them apart.


	4. Chapter 4

Treville rode in front with Athos and Porthos riding alongside each other just behind him discussing the oddities of family and what money does to the minds of men. No one seemed to take notice to the fact that D'artagnan had begun to lag behind, none except Aramis.

Aramis had chosen to take up the rear and could see that the Gascon was struggling to remain upright in his saddle. He spurred his mount to ride alongside the larger Gascon charger. It was then that Aramis took notice of D'artagnan's abnormally pale face. Athin sheen of sweat coated his brow, plastering strands of the younger man's brown hair to his skin.

Carefull to avoid startling both horse and rider, Aramis reached over and gently placed a hand on D'artagnan's forehead. His skin too warm for the cool Autumn air. D'artagnan shrugged away from the contact and seemed to regret the motion instantly. Concern filled Aramis's expression as he reached out again. This time he pulled the front of the leather jacket aside.

His eyes widened as he caught sight of the large red stain that had spread across D'artagnan's right side, saturating the Gascon's shirt and undoubtedly the bandages beneath. His expression shifted to one of near panic as he met the pleading eyes of his young friend.

D'artagnan pulled the leather back disguising the wound beneath the darkened hide. He watched as Aramis looked towards the men ahead of them as if he were about to call out to them. When his gaze returned to D'artagnan, all the Gascon could do was shake his head. There was no way that he was going to burden his friends with this, especially when they had just gotten Porthos back. His pride would not allow him to weak in front of them.

The silent argument continued for a few moments until Aramis seemed to settle on the idea that there was very little telling the others would do at the moment. It was not like they were in a place where they could treat a wound such aas D'artagnan's. The best thing he could do is get him back to the garrison as quickly as possible without causing anymore damage to the younger man. So he resigned himself to riding alongside the injured man.

To Aramis's surprise D'artagnan managed to remain in his saddle all the way back to the garrison, although his vision was beginning to fade and his hands had become clumsy with handling the reins.

As the group rode up to the gates Constance stood waiting in a pale blue dress with a girlish smile on her face. Treville, Athos, and Porthos nodded to her as they passed. She smiled back while still looking passed them. Her eyes settled on D'artagnan and for a second she was filled with pure elation at the sight of him, but it was short lived as he returned a pained half smile. His eyes barely seemed to focus on her as he was guided passed her into the garrison.

Panic filled Aramis as soon as he saw Constance's expression change to one of confusion, then worry, then fear. He kicked himself for thinking that she would not notice D'artagnan's condition immediately.

He quickly dismounted and made a point to block Constance's advance with his mount as he rushed to D'artagnan's side. By then Treville and Athos had noticed something was wrong and both leapt down and were on the injured man in seconds.

Constance tried to get to the men, but was blocked by the horses. She watched as Porthos joined the men gathered around D'artagnan.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Porthos, quickly following the other's lead and keeping his voice low so that only those close to him could hear.

"Took a sword to the side last night and I fear he may have reopened it during today's events." Aramis explained helping a weakened D'artagnan down from his saddle.

He glanced over his shoulder to see Constance's panic stricken face, "get her out of here, he's not going to want her to see him like this."

"What do I tell her?" Porthos asked.

"Send her to fetch that doctor that helped with the Captain. We can at least have him a little more presentable by then and I could use his expertice." Aramis instructed as Athos positioned himself on D'artagnan's other side to help hold him up.

Without another word Porthos turned to intercept Constance.

"What's happened? What's wrong?" She asked, her voice full of worry as she made an attempt to see around Porthos. The large Musketeer kept himself between the frantic woman and the others,

"Constance, Constance D'artagnan has been injured."

"Injured? What do you mean injured? How bad is it? Why won't you let me see him?" she questioned. Her expression shifted to one of sheer terror as she assumed the worst.

"It's pretty bad, he will be needin a surgeon. Could you go fetch your doctor friend? Aramis says it's important." Porthos said as he gently placed his hands on the woman's shoulders.

Constance made another attempt to force her way by Porthos's bulk, but he held her in place with a gentle, but firm grip.

"Please Constance, a doctor. That is the best thing you could do for him right now."

Tears began to fall down her cheeks as she spun on her heel and ran in the direction of the Louvre.

"Where's Constance?" D'artagnan asked his voice barely a whisper and his words slurring together slightly. He was leaning heavily on Athos. It was clear that he was fighting just to stay conscious.

"She went to fetch her doctor friend." Aramis replied solemnly as he helped Athos quide the younger man in the direction of his quarters. A moan escaped D'artagnan's mouth as they started to make their way across the training yard.


	5. Chapter 5

Though sluggish and leaning much of his weight on Athos, D'artagnan managed to keep his feet beneath him and made great effort to walk. As they entered the small room, Treville pulled the sheets off of the narrow bed and helped Aramis and Athos gently lower D'artagnan onto the bare mattress.

Aramis began ordering the others in the room and by then a crowd of Musketeer that were not currently on missions began to form at the door in case their assistance was needed. Athos set to work building a fire in the small hearth on the far side of the room while Porthos went to retrieve clean water and bandages. Aramis started by removing the jacket, shirt, and bandages encircling the young man's torso.

As soon as the last bandage was removed from his side D'artagnan gasped loudly. Just as Aramis had feared, the wound had reopened and in no small way. All of his earlier needlework was torn awayand the wound was bleeding freely.

"Oh dear my friend," whispered Aramis, more to himself than to his charge.

Suddenly Porthos shoved his way in with a bucket, clean bandages, and clean rags, "Mon Dieu!" He shouted. "He's been runnin' around soldierin' with that? It's a wonder that he didn't keel over sooner."

Aramis quickly grabbed the rags and water and set to work wiping away any excess blood and gore from around the gash, "Let's get him cleaned up before the lady returns, shall we? Porthos can you keep steady pressure on this area here? We need to slow the bleeding as much as possible." The larger Musketeer nodded and grabbed a clean rag from the pile and pressed it over the deeper area of the wound.

D'artagnan cried out as soon as the cloth touched his tender skin and Aramis moved to check on his shoulder. He was dismayed to find the skin surrounding the injury was red and slightly warmer than the rest of the body, but at least his stitching was still intact. He could deal with the infection after he keeps his companion from bleeding to death.

Athos had finished building the fire up and had moved to D'artagnan's head and was dobbing his face with a cool cloth. His other hand rested on the man's uninjured shoulder preventing him from pulling away from the pain of Porthos hand pressed against his side.

His eyes fluttered open as he fought to stay awake. His chest heaved as pain caused his breaths to come up short.

"Hold on lad, we'll have you fixed up in no time." Porthos said, his voice unnaturally gentle. The men in the room understood the situation was dire and each of them knew the chance, but all were not willing to give up on the youngest member within their ranks.

Just then shouting could be heard outside the room and someone could be heard trying to push their way through the crowd of Musketeers. The Captain recognized the voice of Lemay the court physician, "Let them through!" He bellowed.

The men at the doorway stepped to the side to allow the reedy out-of-breath man through followed closely by a wide eyed Constance. Lemay's steps faltered as he caught sight of the lean figure fighting for his life on the bed in front of him.

Constance gasped and nearly fainted. She had never seen such a wound before and now feared that his might very well be the last moments she had with her lover. She began to cry and Treville walked over to her and wrapped his arm over her shoulders and began speaking reassuring words to her as she cried.

Lemay rolled up his sleeves and looked to Porthos, "Alright," he announced, "Let me see what we are dealing with?" The blood soaked rag was gently pulled away to reveal the worst area of the wound.

"How long has he been bleeding?" Lemay asked Aramis.

"We're not quite sure, but steadily for about an hour now." He replied.

The doctor thought for a moment and then walked over to the fire, "I'll need two daggers, quickly, time is of the essence."

Athos's eyes widened with the sudden realization, "You don't intend to use cartery?!"

Lemay accepted the daggers from a Musketeer at the door, "Unfortunately, we do not have the luxury of time to debate this. He could die from blood loss at any moment. Barbaric as it may be, it just might save his life."

Athos stepped forward to challenge the doctor's judgment, but froze as he felt a hand on his arm. He turned to see D'artagnan's eyes opened and focused, "its okay Athos." He said quietly.


	6. Chapter 6

"Constance." Whispered D'artagnan.

Athos took a step back and gestured for Constance to replace him at D'artagnan's side. She approached, wiping her tear streaked face with her hand as she did. D'artagnan reached out his hand towards her and she grasped it with both of hers and gently kissed his knuckles.

"You shouldn't be here for this," he whispered eyes watering for both his own pain and seeing the woman he loved in distress.

"I'm staying." She sniffed as she carded her fingers through D'artagnan's sweat drenched hair.

The Gascon's face became one of desperation, "Please Constance, no. I love you and don't want to put you through this."

"No, I will stay right here with you. This is where I belong and I am never going to forget that again. I promise."

D'artagnan's face twisted in pain and his back arched as he fought through another wave of intense pain. Constance looked around desperately trying to find something that would help as his grip tightened on her hand and all she could do was tighten her own grip, trying to ground her lover to her and not let him slip away.

Just then Lemay stood up from his place crouched by the fire, "It's almost ready. Someone give him something to bite down on, I can't help him as much if he bites his tongue." He moved over to the bed and began poisoning his tools and poultices on the small table alongside the bed.

"I will need some of you to hold him down and another to return the blades to fire to reheat them."

Constance kissed D'artagnan's forehead and stepped back to clear enough space for the doctor and Musketeers to work. Athos removed one of his belts and placed it between the younger man's teeth while Porthos and Aramis placed themselves on either side of the bed at D'artagnan's shoulders.

Two more Musketeers entered the room crowding the small space even more. One stood at the foot of the bed his hands on his comrade's ankles, while the other, the Musketeer who had offered one of his daggers to the doctor, stood at the fire with a gloved hand on the hilt of one of the blades.

"Ready?" asked Lemay as he placed a reassuring hand on his patient's arm.

D'artagnan took as deep of a breath his body would allow to calm himself and nodded to Lemay. The doctor then turned to the Musketeer by the fire and gestured him to bring the first blade.

The doctor looked around at the Musketeers holding their friend, making eye contact with each of them to be sure that everyone was prepared for what was about to happen.

A sickening hiss could be heard as heated metal met torn flesh. The sound preceded the even more gut wrenching sound of D'artagnan as a scream tore from his throat.

Constance clamped her hands over her ears and buried her face in Captain Treville's chest and wept. He hugged her tightly, as if to shield her from the whole ordeal be sheer force of will alone.

Lemay turned the blade over and moved it down the wound slightly and pressed it to the Gascon's skin once more. Another scream of agony ripped from D'artagnan as instinct took over and he began twisting and thrashing in an attempt to flee his abuser, but his companions stood firm and held him in place.

Even when the smell of burnt flesh assaulted their senses nearly making them wretch, they held fast.

Lemay handed the first blade back to the awaiting Musketeer to return it to the flames and bring the other. He repeated this process several times until the entirety of the wound was cauterized. D'artagnan's screams began raw breathy gasps as his voice gave out and stopped all together as he lost consciousness.

Fear gripped everyone as the sound stopped. The silence seemed to stretch out infinitely as the others looked on. Lemay held his breath and leaned forward to place an ear on the young man's chest.

A sigh of relief escaped the doctor as he heard the faint flutter of a heartbeat. As he stood up he was met with the questioning faces of three Musketeers.

"He still lives. I don't know when he will regain consciousness, but the worst of the ordeal if over. He is strong of that I am certain."

Constance nearly fainted at Lemay's words and would have fallen if Treville hadn't guided her gently to the ground against the wall.

The Musketeer that had been holding onto D'artagnan's ankles suddenly ran out of the room, shoving past his comrades before emptying the contents of his stomach on the ground just outside of the crowded room.

Lemay began cleaning the raw flesh gently with a cool wet cloth and began to instruct Aramis on how to keep the wound clean and administer the salve. Athos was wiping the sweat from D'artagnan's face when two glassy orbs met his.

"Hey." Said Porthos softly as he too took notice.

"Is it over?" D'artagnan's voice was quiet and hoarse and though awake he looked worse than he did before the procedure.

"Yes, it's over. Now rest," answered Athos. Concern was clearly etched in his face as he noticed that the younger man did not even react to the ministrations of Lemay and Aramis, even as they gently rubbed a thick, sticky mixture onto the wound.

As if waiting on permission the Gascon let his eyes close and succumbed to the darkness. Athos and Porthos looked to each other, neither wanted to admit their fear of those being the last words they would hear from their youngest member.

"Be careful to ensure that the bandages stay moist or they might stick to the wound and replace them often to keep any infection from taking root." Lemay said to Aramis as he applied the last of the salve and covered the area with clean bandages.

Aramis who had been watching and listening intently straightened his back and nodded, "Thank you Monsieur Lemay. We are forever indebted to you."

"Don't thank me just yet, he still has a ways to go. If he makes it through the night it will be a promising sign," replied Lemay dousing his bloodied hands into the bucket of water to clean them.

"I'll leave the instructions on how to make the salve, as well as some medicines for the pain. He will require looking after for a while. I will stop by each morning to check his condition and if anything should happen, you need only send for me."

It was Athos's turn to be grateful, "Thank you."

With a final look towards the distraught Constance and then to the sleeping D'artagnan, "He seems to be well looked after," he said and left the room.


	7. Chapter 7

Once she was able to Constance was helped to her feet by Treville and Porthos and brought to sit in a chair that was placed next to the bed for her to be close to D'artagnan. She immediately took up the cloth that Athos had been using moments earlier and placed it on his brow.

Aramis had retreated to the small writing desk in the corner and began preparing a poultice for the minor infection on D'artagnan's shoulder.

Porthos and Treville left the room, Porthos to retrieve more clean water and food for both D'artagnan and the others, Treville to return to his duties as well as ordering the Musketeers who had gathered to do the same.

Athos had walked over to the corner next to the writing desk and slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor all the while not taking his eyes off of his young friend. He was far too young in Athos's mind to endure such treatment. Anger bubbled up inside the older man, anger towards Helena Lavisk, towards Lemay for suggesting such a treatment, but mostly anger towards himself for allowing D'artagnan to continue fighting after sustain such a wound.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the voice of Aramis, "Athos can you help me get to his shoulder?"

Taking a slow breath he stood and walked over to D'artagnan's left shoulder and with one arm cradling the Musketeer's head and neck and the other placed on his arm just below the injury Athos gently lifted him just far enough for Aramis to gain access to the wound.

It did not take long for Aramis to clean and bandage the shoulder and as soon as he finished, they noticed that D'artagnan had begun to shiver slightly.

After checking to ensure that the bandages were all secure and those on his torso were still moist Aramis allowed Constance to cover D'artagnan with the previously discarded sheets and the extras that had been delivered by fellow Musketeers.

Someone had even brought a large cushioned chair for Constance to keep her vigil in instead of the hard wooden one she had been sitting in.

Porthos had also returned with a large tray of food for everyone which remained fairly untouched as the Musketeers set up a game of cards that they only half played to pass the time and that is how the room and its occupants remained for the rest of the day and well into the evening.

As the temperature outside began to drop, Athos built up the fire in an attempt to keep the room as warm as possibly for D'artagnan who was still shaking from fever.

That was when Captain Treville entered with a bottle of wine and asked about D'artagnan's condition.

"How is he?" he asked Aramis quietly handing the wine to Athos.

Aramis stood and silently gestured for the Captain to follow him out into the training yard. Once outside Aramis turned to answer him, "Not good," he began, running a hand through his curls as he always did when he was worried or nervous, "if he makes it through the night, it'll be a good sign, but if doesn't wake within a few days there will be little chance of… well,"

"How long?" Treville asked, eyeing Aramis critically.

"I have seen a soldier injured on the battlefield last a week before fading after significant blood loss, but we will need to get food and water in him if he is to have any chance at all."

Treville took a moment to think before speaking, "You, Athos, and Porthos will stay with him, but ensure that all of you are well rested in case I have need of you. I will have an escort assigned to Constance to ensure she is taken care of as well. I expect the queen will be expecting her back in the morning."

Treville turned toward his own room and office, but stopped a few steps later, "and Aramis," He turned around, "try and not let the hot head give up, the King seems to be fond of him." Aramis nodded, understanding another meaning to the words. The King was not the only one who cared for D'artagnan.


End file.
